Issue 26: Blame It On The Rainbow Rice

Plus: A short story collection, a podcast on trust + two top-notch breakfast ideas

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left: my demise. // right: a red herring of “fun.”

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Worth Considering: Blame It On The Rainbow Rice

I became unhinged on a Wednesday. It was one of those perfect California winter days where it’s 74 degrees and you commit to nothing except laying around outside in literally any capacity. Since the beer garden down the block wasn’t an option mid-week with two ill-behaved children under 3, we sat out on our rickety back deck “playing tools” which mostly just means me pulling loose nails from the warped wood and letting my toddler channel the kind of unbridled aggression only those with small children can recognize, obliterating them back into the slats with his tiny plastic hammer.

While the steady whap-whap-whap of a plastic hammer sang its abrasive lullaby in the background, I picked up a tiny, bright orange plastic dinosaur and began picking rainbow rice out of the grooves in the deck. That’s right: rainbow rice.

I guess I should start at the beginning. Most parents of small children have, at one time or another, fallen down the rabbit hole of the How To Be A Great Parent how-tos that litter every caregiver’s Instagram explore tab. The star of that rabbit hole is unequivocally: RAINBOW RICE.

For the uninitiated, rainbow rice is exactly what it sounds like: rice that is rainbow colored. Where do you buy this rice? you might ask. Oh you don’t buy it. You make it, obviously. You decide that today is the day that you’re really going to bring your A-game to parenting because feeding, clothing, chasing, tickling, snuggling, bathing, butt-wiping and Blippi-watching is absolutely NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Your children need rainbow rice for god’s sake! So you add six pounds of long grain rice, one set of food coloring, 2 bottles of white vinegar (an extra for good measure) and a 31-quart plastic bin to your Target drive-up order. $25, one get-in-the-car tantrum, seven encores of We Don’t Talk About Bruno-no-no-no later and you are ready to rainbow rice it up.

I plopped both kids on the couch and got to work (yes, my 8-month-old already watches TV and tbh this is the least of my worries seeing as this is a tale of HOW I BECAME UNHINGED). I’ll spare you the particulars, but somehow I actually made the rainbow rice with only a handful of yellow stains on my countertop and a floor that would house rogue grains of rice for several weeks to come. Not bad if I do say so myself!

After drying the rice for hours (yes, hours) the moment of truth arrived. I carefully arranged each color of rice in the bin side-by-side, doing my damnedest to let as few grains overlap one another as possible (the horror!). Then the clouds parted, the birds sang, and my ROYGBIV miracle was born.

I set the bin down carefully on our back deck. Next to it, I placed the bin’s lid and arranged fun! little! gadgets! with which my child would be able to fully experience the joys of colored rice. There were jars and bottles. There were tongs. There were spoons and bowls and scoops of all sizes, colors and shapes. There were goddamn funnels.

Excitedly, I invited my toddler outside. Come see! I whispered. He pulled on his boots and crept over to the back door, peering skeptically through the glass fully expecting me to be pointing out another one of the godforsaken sunsets I force him to admire with me, even though it was lunchtime.

Boy, was that kid in for a TREAT! Artificially-dyed carbs, can you imagine anything more thrilling?! Shockingly, he did seem pretty jazzed after all and got right to scooping and mixing and funneling like a miniature mad scientist. I did it! I said to myself. I successfully put together a creative, stimulating activity that is engaging my toddler while also nurturing his itsy bitsy growing brain cells. I’ve made it to the pinnacle of motherhood, I thought.

Just as I sat back to congratulate myself, things started to go awry. In what felt like a nanosecond, my toddler had taken one of the measuring scoops and fully dumped half of the rice onto the deck. I scrambled toward the duned landscape, cupping my hands in desperation to save the rice and return it back to its plastic home. How dare you treat these colorful starchy granules with disrespect you little ingrate! I cursed my kid under my breath. Before I could say something (audibly) that I would regret, I calmed down, whispering as sweetly as I could muster, “Let’s keep the rice in the container, okay buddy?”

I pulled out the broom, swept up and threw away what I could. But still, small specks of red and green and purple glared back at me from the deck’s grooves. This is our home now, they taunted.

Which brings me back to where we started: a warm Wednesday in February, a few days after The Creation. As I picked away at the grains of rice with that lil’ dino tail, I thought to myself: This is nice. This is soothing. Pick out, brush away, repeat. Absolute bliss. I could do this for hours, I mused.

My meditation on the beauty of rice extraction was abruptly interrupted by my toddler scolding me for throwing the grains at the side of the house. Once I came to, I recognized the sheer lunacy of the fact that picking rainbow rice from my deck was the thing that brought me more peace that I had known in weeks. And that’s when I knew: I had become truly, indubitably unhinged.

Listen, I know there were probably (definitely) a few (many) small things that led to this moment of insanity. But I’m going to do what any reasonable, self-aware parent would do: Blame it on the damn rainbow rice.

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Worth Reading: Five Tuesdays in Winter by Lily King (Amazon // Bookshop.org)

I’ve mentioned Lily King’s work in a past issue when I read Lovers & Writers, which I adored. King’s new short story collection was a delight—a smattering of stories that varied in tone and subject. I especially loved “When in the Dordogne,” a tale of unexpected friendship in the summer of 1986, in which two teenagers serve as the caregivers for a coming-of-age boy while his parents spend a month in France. The last paragraph made me weepy.

Currently on my nightstand: Atomic Habits by James Clear. In my ears: Caste by Isabel Wilkerson

Worth Cooking: Two Make-Ahead Breakfasts for People Who Hate Meal Prep

I am not and will never be someone who preps their meals on Sundays for the week ahead. I’m a rebel by nature and this kind of organization and foresight goes against every fiber of my do-what-I-want-when-I-want attitude (this is a real liability in most facets of my life but we are who we are!!). What I can do, however, is spend five minutes after dinner putting together what I believe to be two breakfasts that make me—dare I say—excited to get out of bed. Be sure to make a double batch of the blood orange syrup from the Vanilla Bean Chia Pudding (for cocktails, natch) and definitely pop these Peanut Butter Overnight Oats (with chocolate granola!) into the microwave, a revelation.

Bonus bite: This Chicken + Green Chile Chili with Quinoa and White Beans was so good, and the leftovers were even better.

Worth Listening: The Anatomy of Trust, Unlocking Us with Brené Brown

Set yourself up with a pen and paper before you press play on this episode, which defines how trust is built and maintained—both to foster trust in others and earn it from others. The thing that stuck with me the most is that in order to be trusted, we can’t just listen attentively—we must also share ourselves wholly and authentically. It’s not enough to have open ears (a simple task); you must also expose your own vulnerable truths (a much harder one) to elicit trust in others to share theirs—building a relationship of mutual integrity.

Worth Playing: Wordle

You already know, but in an effort to share the things that are truly making my days a little brighter, I couldn’t not include it. If you haven’t already, it’s time to fall down the 5-letter rabbit hole.

Worth Watching: Maid, Netflix

Again, absolutely not a secret and has been streaming for at least three months, but this limited series is one I can’t stop thinking about, weeks and weeks later. It gutted me at points and I absolutely shed a few tears; Margaret Qualley and Andie MacDowell are truly suburb in their roles, and Nick Robinson plays an abusive asshole boyfriend who, maddeningly, you still find softness for at times.

Currently bingeing: Inventing Anna (Netflix); Yellowstone (Peacock)

Worth Spending: A Few Favorite Things from 2021

My sisters and I decided to exchange a few of our favorite purchases from 2021, so I thought I would share them here (waaay too late for a holiday gift guide obvs, but unbridled consumerism knows no deadline!). I packaged up the most buttery soft leggings (pricey but worth the money), olive branch body wash, an inexpensive but magical stain removing bar, this book and this book, standout shaving cream, and a lovely room spray. My sister’s picks included a favorite sponge, a gemstone bracelet, the best no-show sneaker socks and a very-handy Tile.

Worth Quoting: The poem “Surviving” by Leona Gom

growth,

the smell of it

like warm vinegar,

it pushes through all

the burned-out places, the

logged-out places, crawls

from stumps, vines.

the dark throat of seeds,

from all the things

that know

how to hold

their breaths

and wait.

Worth Noting: This Week’s Honorable Mentions

• This wrap sweater feels like my dream sweater. (& Other Stories)

• The best wall art in 2022, in a variety of price ranges. (Domino)

• I got an ad for MOOTSH, a service that sends you high-quality prints of 10 of your favorite photos each month, which somehow seems both incredibly convenient and highly unnecessary.

• The best cookie + cheese pairings of all time—I only wish this included Girl Scout cookies. (The Kitchn)

• Coveting this hippie-dippy-but-kinda-neat microcrystal exfoliant buffing bar. (Soft Services Co.)

• Wanting to see if Tom’s Perfect 10 granola lives up to the hype—created during the pandemic by Eva Chen’s husband, Tom.